


Blue Space

by galaxymilk



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Boys In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluffiest thing I've ever written, M/M, Minor Angst, just guys being dudes being bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 16:05:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13978671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxymilk/pseuds/galaxymilk
Summary: to Larry, Sal is the sun and the stars and everything in-between.





	Blue Space

**Author's Note:**

> they say if you can't find the fic you want, write it yourself. i've never written much fluff, but this just poured out of me. this fandom is so small, yet so full of talented artists and writers and I wanted to be a part of it! I wrote this in the middle of the night so I hope there aren't too many mistakes. I love this blue boy and his tall friend.

Larry was afraid.  
Something that wasn’t too unusual, considering the demons and ghosts in their building. What was new was that Larry was afraid of himself.

He considered himself a confident guy. Any jabs he got for his long nose and hair were easily brushed off. Teenagers could be cruel, Larry wasn’t surprised by that.

The routines in Larry’s life were constant for the most part. Paint, help his mom, go to school, and listen to constant streams of guitar riffs and shouting vocalists. Sal changed all of that. The masked boy was an enigma that Larry could not resist. He became the black hole in Larry’s small universe, and Larry happily let himself be sucked in.

Despite the horrors that Sal had uncovered, Larry never regretted a single moment with him. He had finally found a real best friend. He studied Sal like he was artwork. He learned his expressionless mannerisms. Each glance, each slight shift in the boy’s demeanor had meaning. Sal appreciated it too, he thought.

Larry adored him, he could not imagine a world without Sal. It made him afraid.

The feelings that began as a simmer had become a boiling, all encompassing _disaster._

Larry had never really loved anyone. Besides his mom, of course. He had friends, sure, but he had yet to come across someone who entangled themselves within his soul. Someone who knew him inside and out, had seen him break and crumble and helped pick up the pieces. Sal held Larry’s heart in his small hands.

He was utterly fucked.

Yet when the quiet static of the walkie-talkie came through, followed by a soft, " _Larry Face?"_

Larry’s distress sputtered and died. He was immediately filled with something heavy and warm. Like downing a shot of whiskey.

“Sally Face?” he asked.

The radio crackled again. “Can I come down? My dad…” he droned off for a moment. “needs some space?”

It sounded like question, but Larry didn’t need an explanation. He knew about Mr. Fisher’s relationship with substance abuse.

“Yeah, man. Come over, I was just about to start painting.”

Sal didn’t respond, but Larry could imagine him giving a single nod, pigtails bouncing. True to his word, Larry pulled out his set of old paints and managed to find a blank canvas. He was just beginning to mix the colors before his door creaked open.

“Hey man!” Larry grinned.

“Hello.” Sal walked over to Larry, inspecting his colors. Larry was greeted by the smell of his shampoo. There was a soft brush of Sal’s worn black sweater against his arm. Heat flooded Larry’s cheeks. He wanted to run his fingers through the blue strands until they looked like streams of water. Sal looked up at him. Larry could tell he had an eyebrow raised.

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah, dude. Just trying to think of what I’m going to paint. I think I just got it.”

“Cool,” He sounded genuinely pleased, the adorable bastard. “You mind if I play a video game while you work?”

Larry shook his head, then remembered why Sal was here in the first place.

“Are you okay?” Larry questioned. Sal shifted a bit, eyes looking downcast for a split second. Larry caught it.

“I’m fine, I’d just rather be here.” Sal said.

Larry’s heart managed to melt a little more. This kid was going turn him into a puddle if he wasn’t careful. Without thinking, Larry took a step forward and wrapped his arms around Sal.

Sal tensed for a moment before relaxing and winding his arms around Larry’s back. The top of his prosthetic was cool against Larry’s throat, but the rest of Sal was warm and soft. A feeling hardened in Larry’s throat and he tried to swallow it down. He had felt it before on the fifth floor of the building, when Sal had been shielding himself from the demon. The screaming urge to protect Sal enveloped him. He wanted to shield him from everything cruel in the world; with his own body if necessary.

He sighed. “You’re always welcome here, little buddy.”

Sal’s eyes crinkled in the way that Larry knew was a smile. He jerked his head towards the gaming system. “I just got a new first person shooter, go ahead and break it in for me.”

Sal dragged the beanbag in front of the TV and plopped onto it. Larry turned back to his colors, mixing a few. He had an image in mind, and tried to recreate the colors. Some whites and blues, a couple different shades of grey, a few drops of warm colors for contrast. Larry glanced up to see Sal leaning over when he moved his character, as if he was in the game himself. He chuckled fondly.

He began to glide his brush against the canvas. Larry was the epitome of content. This room was the only place in the world. Nothing existed outside of their little safe house. He could imagine staying here forever, even if it was impossible. Larry’s mind ran off without him soon enough. As it usually did when hefe into a new painting.

After about an hour Larry became irritated with his hair falling in his face, and tied it up into a messy-looking bun. Sal had become very immersed in his game, as he only responded to Larry with little hums. Larry squinted at his work and cracked his sore knuckles. It looked okay. Unfinished, but not bad. His eyes were getting heavy and he knew he wouldn’t be able to finish just yet.

“Okay!” Larry declared, throwing up his arms and stretching his back. Sal twisted around to face him. He looked like he had stopped playing a little while ago.

“What?”

“I’m done. I’m about to drop dead.”

“Me too, dude.” Sal lifted his mask enough to slide a hand under and rub his eye. “Let me see?”

Oh.

Larry hasn’t considered this.

“Uh, it’s not done.”

“So what? Show me!”

“Okay! Just don’t be weird.” Larry suddenly felt like throwing open his back door and chucking himself into the snow.

“What? Why would I be—

Larry could _hear_ Sal’s mouth clamp shut. His piercing blue eyes widened at the image. It was him. He was standing in the snow, just outside. His earmuffs were visible, and he had his hands stuffed into his pockets. Above him was the treehouse. The snow in the painting looked like it was sparkling. Larry could see Sal’s ears becoming red. Aw, shit.

“Fuck, is this weird? It’s the first thing that came to mind. I’m sorry.”

“You’re amazing.” Sal’s voice was nearly a whisper, his eyes still glued to the canvas. Larry’s heart flew into his throat, choking him.

“You think so?”

“Yeah! You could really do something with that, you know. Got some serious talent in those big ass hands.”

Larry barked out a laugh. “You’re only saying that cause you have baby hands!”

“Do not!”

“Do so!”

They both ended up in a fit of laughter. Larry felt as though he could fly. He wiped a tear from his eye, sighing. Sal’s eyes followed the trail of his hand before picking a spot just above his eyebrows.

“You have paint on you, Larry Face.”

“What? Where? Can you get it?” Larry bent down to Sal’s level. Sal’s eyes flickered down to his mouth for a moment before floating back up.

“Sure.”

Larry’s heart stuttered, face warming. He didn’t realize how close they were. Sal reached a pale hand up and rubbed his thumb against Larry’s forehead. Larry watched the way his eyes seemed to glow beneath the prosthetic. He was ethereal, in a way that had Larry wondering if he was even real. It was something that most people would miss, but Larry didn’t. Those deep, _deep_ eyes, like an ocean reflecting the stars. He was electric, in every way. Larry absorbed the voltage with pleasure, letting it charge him.

“Got it.” Sal said, twisting one of his pigtails on his finger. Nervous. He was nervous. Why?

“Wanna stay over tonight?” Larry asked, a bit too hurriedly. “It’s no problem, really. You know my mom won’t mind.”

Sal nodded.

They ended up laying on his pull-out couch, watching a shitty horror film. This one was about giant spiders and centipedes. Sal seemed to love it. Larry loved him.

_Oh._

The soft, comfortable atmosphere had returned. Sal was wearing one of Larry’s shirts, looking like he was swimming in it. He had scars littered up his arms from the accident. Sal’s hair was down, hiding most of the straps from his mask. He looked peaceful. Vulnerable in the way that few others saw. The tightness in Larry’s throat returned.

“You look good with your hair up.” Sal said, not taking his eyes off the screen. Larry smiled. He had forgotten it was still up. He reached up to pull the band out before a hand stopped him.

“You should leave it.” Sal was watching him now, head quirked to the side.

“You’re a funny dude, dude.” Larry chuckled.

“Why?” Sal’s hand was still gripping his arm.

“Dunno,” Larry poked the nose of Sal’s prosthetic. “you just are.”

Sal was eyeing him over, curiously. Larry’s hand remained suspended in the air, near Sal’s face. With a jolt of courage, Larry placed his hand along the side of Sal’s mask. It was cool to the touch, as usual. The prosthetic was smooth minus the crack around his right eye. The ivory switched into a more mahogany color. Picasso might’ve enjoyed the abstraction and beauty that made up Sal.

Mesmerized, Larry traced the curve below Sal’s eye, noticing a few eyelashes hiding just below. He followed the path until he reached the edge. Sal’s ear was pale, two black studs creating a vivid contrast against his skin. His finger hit one of the clasps on the side, causing Sal to jerk back.

“Shit! I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was doing.” Larry grimaced. He felt like a selfish idiot.

Sal’s breathing was visibly shaky. Each soft exhale chipped at Larry’s heart.

“Sal, I’m—

“Do you want to see?” Sal asked. For once, he was unreadable.

“You don’t have to do that.” Larry frowned.

“I trust you, Larry.” Sal said softly. He inched a bit closer.

The words bounced around Larry’s chest, each hit harder than the last. He was curious about Sal’s face. He knew about the accident in general. Never once had he considered asking Sal to remove his prosthetic. He adored Sal for who he was, not what he looked like. He would’ve gone a lifetime of not knowing if Sal was uncomfortable about showing him. But he no longer seemed to be.

Larry was still hesitant.

“Do _you_ want to show me? I only care if you’re okay with it.”

Sal considered this for a moment before meeting him with a tender look. “I want to.”

Larry watch him carefully unbuckle the straps, biting the inside of his cheek. He knew he wouldn’t care about how bad it was. It wouldn’t change anything. It was the fact that Sal felt this comfortable with him that had him jittery with energy.

Sal sighed, then lowered the prosthetic into his lap. Larry looked at him. He looked, and looked, and looked.

Sal’s face was covered in deep, red scarring. It looked to have been nearly shredded. A ragged scar cut through his right eye, the flesh there slightly deformed. Larry remembered that Sal had a glass eye there. Another large cut tore across the side of his jaw, clear through his lips. Part of the upper one appeared to be missing, as Larry could see a few white teeth uncovered.

Sal’s leg was bouncing, his eyes darting all over Larry’s face, trying to read him.

“You’re incredible.” Larry’s voice caught, and he cleared his throat.

“What?” Sal was frowning. He could see it now. The furrowing of his brows, the downturn of his lips. Larry was experiencing sensory overload. The familiar tightness in his throat was strangling him. This poor kid, this cruel world.

“You are.. the strongest person I have ever met, Sal Fisher.” Larry could feel his voice breaking. He didn’t care. Sal had seen him cry before. He reached out a slow hand, glancing into Sal’s eyes for permission. Sal leaned into the touch. Larry felt the grooves and rough surfaces of his face.

Sal’s face.

The boy who stole his heart.

“You’re perfect, I mean it. I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

Sal placed his arm on Larry’s wrist. He was sniffling. Larry pressed his forehead to Sal’s, closing his eyes.

“You're perfect.”

Sal shifted. Larry’s mouth felt the touch before his brain registered it. He was filled with the scent of lavender and the feeling of smooth, imperfect lips against his. His heart took control, any worries were out the window and into the cold.

Larry held the back of Sal’s neck, playing with the soft blue hairs. He kissed him with every pent-up emotion that was spilling out of him.

Sal sighed softly. Larry chuckled against his mouth.

“You know, your face is honestly metal as fuck.” Larry pecked Sal on the lips again.

Sal laughed heartily. It was the most amazing thing Larry had ever seen.


End file.
